A Year & A Half Late
by Alternatively
Summary: If that kiss had never happened... An alternative Ron-and-Hermione get together. A year and a half after the battle.


"No, no, really, I'm fine," Hermione beamed round at everyone, sitting round the kitchen table at Grimmauld Place, "For kidnappers, they were extremely considerate,"

"Yes, well, that's fine for you," said Ginny, giving her an awkward sideways hug, "the rest of us have been tearing our hair out with anxiety, picturing you tortured or dead or… forced to provide legal representation to death eaters or something,"

"Nothing so horrible," said Hermione, "they did try threatening me, but I um…" she paused, blushing.

"Oh, this'll be good," said George, eyebrow twitching, "what's the betting she told them off? _It's illegal to kidnap people you know, and threatening me is not going to make it any better. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves,_"

"Well, and so they were. When I explained it to them,"

Harry snorted and hugged her from the other side.

"Only you, Hermione, only you."

"Well, there wasn't much else I could do, given the circumstances. Anyway, I'm fine now. I'm going to have words with Martin on Monday… maybe he'll actually take me seriously this time."

Ron stood up abruptly, his chair scraping on the floor.

"Uh, I'm just- I just forgot… I've just remembered something I've got to do- I'll ah," he waved a vague hand and walked out.

Percy and George exchanged looks.

"He's really getting into this whole architecture thing, isn't he," said Hermione fondly, "It's nice he's found something he really enjoys,"

Charlie snorted.

"Yes, because Ron always turns down roast beef for buildings."

An awkward silence chased around the table, and Harry wondered if they were actually going to have the conversation no-one had been brave enough to have with either Ron or Hermione.

"What?" Hermione looked around puzzled.

Ginny put her fork down.

"Well, he's… he was pretty worried about you. We didn't know if you were alive or not. He, um. Well, he was really worried."

"Oh. Right, yes of course. Like that time you and Harry went out and didn't tell anyone and the order hunted you down in that classy restaurant near the park. Had us all completely terrified something had happened."

Neville took a measured sip of wine.

"You have to stop doing this." He said quietly, "What if one of you died? Not Death Eaters, but … you know, freak broomstick accident, heart failure..." He blinked, blushed, and sheepishly piled more roast vegetables onto his plate. Everyone looked at each other.

"Well," said Charlie loudly, "This is all extremely weird. Gin, you and Harry coming out to the dragon reserve tomorrow? Hagrid's been asking after you. Best rearer we ever had- practically flame proof!"

"Yes, well there are some advantages to being half giant," said Hermione gratefully, "Quite aside from size and strength, many half giants do inherit some of the more unique attributes of their forebears-"

"Oh, lord, here we go," said George, "Quick Percy, pass her the muffins. Ron reckons she's got a weakness for blueberry," he grinned and winked, "Good to have you back, Hermione,"

"Hey, you ok?"

Ron was sitting at his desk, in a nest of building plans, drawing what looked like a building of concentric rectangles. Every so often, he would tap the parchment with his wand and the concentric rectangles would spin, flare out and vanish. Harry had never really followed the magic architecture stuff Ron was into these days. It was all strategy and spin on effects and precision.

"Ron?"

Ron put his wand down, stretched out his fingers and ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah."

"You ok?"

"Yeah,"

"She's alive. She's fine."

"Yeah."

"So are you… ok?"

Ron rubbed at some ink on his hand.

"There's an internship in Germany."

"What?"

Ron gave a little self-mocking huff of laughter.

"I can't keep doing this, Harry. It's never going to happen, and it just- when I think about- ah shit." He bent over and put his head between his knees.

"Ron?"

"Yeah, no, it's fine," said Ron, sitting up again. "Look, it's fine, ok, I just, I can't do this anymore, and she's not going to quit her bloody job and I wouldn't ask her to, and this thing in Germany has come up, and if I take it, then you know, I can visit, but I won't be around, and we won't fight and it's just, it'd be better. I might even, you know, get over it." He gave another mocking huff, "Not exactly likely, but you never know. I could turn up at Christmas with a sexy frauline,"

"I still think you should talk to her."

"What, and make it even more awkward than it already is? She knows, Harry, she always knows. Bloody know-it-all." He shrugged. "Don't you think if there was anything to say, she would have said it?"

Harry blinked.

"No. Women are unpredictable. You should talk to her."

Ron snorted and rolled his eyes.

"I'm going to bed. See you in the morning, Harry."

Harry winced. This whole thing had been driving them all apart. Ron was burying himself in quidditch and buildings, and Hermione refused to discuss it. They had explosive arguments at least once a fortnight, and the time in between was always fraught with tension. Ron was constantly moody, constantly holed up in his room scribbling, and Harry felt like he was losing his best friend to this sulky architect person he didn't know.

"Night Ron."

It was a year and a half since the Battle of Hogwarts, and not a single one of the relevant bets entered into Fred and George's 'L.O.S.T. (List of Stupid Things) Ledger' was still valid. Harry did not doubt for a second that they should have been a couple, but the prolonged denial on both sides seemed to be festering and making everyone miserable.

"This is killing him, you know," said Harry, as Hermione came down the hall towards him. "He knows you know, and he thinks you would say something if you felt the same way. And frankly," he said, as Hermione cast him a dirty look and a snort of derision, "I don't understand why you don't."

"It's none of your business, Harry,"

"It bloody is, if he takes the internship in Germany," said Harry forcefully, "He's my best friend, Hermione. It's not all about you, you know."

Hermione gave a bitter cackle.

"Bit rich, coming from you,"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just- keep out of it, ok? Ron can do what he wants."

Harry blinked.

"Wow, Hermione. That's… really cold."

Hermione glared at him.

"Good night, Harry."

She shut her bedroom door in his face.

Ron sat on the bed, and traced the line of her face with his thumb. He'd had the photo since fifth year. It was one of Colin's. He'd bought it off him for a couple of knuts, and told him he'd have a brilliant career as a photographer. Too late now. Colin was dead, and Hermione… in the photograph, she was reading, firelight striking off her unruly hair, and casting shadows that emphasised her curves. Every so often, she'd change position, or laugh, or get intrigued by something and push her face up closer to the book, as though being closer to it would somehow improve the knowledge absorption rate.

A soft tap at the door, and she was there, peering round the door at him, hair a fuzzy mess. He tucked the photo back into the pocket of his pants.

"Ron?"

"Hey,"

"Can I come in?"

"Course,"

She was fidgeting with the cuff of her top, unusual for her. She closed the door behind her and came to sit next to him on the bed. She bit her lip and didn't say anything for a minute.

"I was… really mad at you. When we were horcrux hunting and we got separated. I have never been more terrified in my life. I thought… it doesn't matter, but I understand, if you're mad at me. Are… are you?"

She was just so little, sitting there next to him.

"No. Yes. I don't know." He ran a hand through his hair. "I just keep hearing you scream…" he rubbed a hand over his face. "I have the same damn nightmare every night. And every time you're late or something… Merlin's balls, I just… and then this whole kidnapping thing." He shook his head, "There's an internship in Germany,"

"Don't go."

"Gee, thanks for your support."

"Ok, do go. I'll apply for a transfer."

"I think you're missing the point."

Hermione took a shaky breath.

"You're running away from me."

Ron snorted and went to stand by the window.

"Not exactly. You'll know where I am if you need me for anything."

"I don't believe this."

"What?"

Hermione had her knees tucked up under her chin, her eyes wide. She made a helpless noise and fidgeted with her sock.

"I know we fight a lot, but…"

"It's not that,"

"So what, you just hate me all of a sudden?"

"Don't be stupid,"

"Well, what then? I mean what am I supposed to think? You're telling me you're moving to Germany to get away from me? Am I that much of a nightmare?" she was frowning at him, angry and upset, exasperated, but still not quite believing it.

Ron shook his head, let out a frustrated breath and looked away.

To Hermione it felt like the bottom fell out of the world.

Tears welled up, and she brushed them away, choking back panic.

"Oh for- don't _cry_ damn it."

"Oh I'm _sorry,_ Ron," she said caustically, getting up, "Forgive me for _caring._ Just because _you_ don't care-"

Ron let out an aggravated growl and rounded on her.

"Of course I bloody care! Quit pretending you don't know what this is about-"

"Pretending I don't- oh _believe_ me, Ron, if I knew what this was about, do you think I'd be-"

"Merlin's- ok, fine, you want me to say it? Is that what you want? Fine. _Fine._ I'm in love with you. Desperately, pathetically, hopelessly in love with you and yes, it's a fucking nightmare, ok, because you have this insane job, and I can't say anything even though your boss is a total sleazeball, and I wake up every night in a cold sweat, terrified that something might have happened to you, and you go and get yourself _kidnapped,_ for Chrissake, and I can't even think straight, and this entire time, you've known, right? You've always known, and I've known for a while now that you know, and it's-" he paused, searching for words

"Honestly Ron,-"

"_Don't,_- just don't ok, I know, it's pathetic-"

"-you're _such_ an idiot-"

"-I can't stand it-"

"-why don't you just ask me out instead of yelling at me-"

"-at least if I go to Germany I won't have the constant reminders-"

"_I'm in love with you too, you idiot,"_

Ron's rant deflated with a confused mumble. He stood staring at her.

"So, just ask me out ok? And don't go to Germany. Or, or _do_ go to Germany, if that's what you want, but please don't bail on me. I mean I'd like to come- I could transfer and get away from Martin- or, or if, if you need an adventure on your own, I understand, but I could come on weekends or, or something. I can't not see you. God, even the screaming matches are better than nothing,"

Ron stared.

"Ron?"

He raised a hand.

"Just- shut up- for a minute. Please."

"Wha-?"

"Just-" he made an emphatic gesture and stared at her some more. Hermione gave up and just stared back teary and anxious.

Ron as he stared was not convinced. Not convinced at all. Except that… he was. The pieces started to fall in to place. The fights. The strange things she did. The way she got really upset about some things, and not others. The whole thing with Viktor Krum. And Lavender. The way she'd actually sort of half asked him out at Hogwarts, twice- no, three times, and he'd been too much of an idiot to see it. The fact that she was in her pyjamas, standing in his room, staring at him, and trying not to cry, because he said he needed to get away from her. She was practically begging him. And this from the girl who had thrown _Creative Approaches to Magical Legislature- Reading Between the Charms _at him last week, rather than admit that she actually did like blueberry muffins. Ron couldn't even quite work out how they ended up arguing about that. He remembered she'd been wearing that shirt, the tight one that drove him nuts…

Hermione saw the moment before it happened, because for a second, he looked like he was going to say something, but decided against it. And suddenly, she was up in the air being ruthlessly kissed, and his touch set her on fire. She kissed him back, clinging and desperate, but after a minute he stopped abruptly.

"Sorry," he said gruffly, "I kind of panicked."

"Wha-mmmhh,"

And this time it was slow, melting, and passionate, and she was pretty sure she was dissolving in his arms.


End file.
